


rust

by pyrrhical



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Badass Mabel Pines, BillDip, Bipper, Blood and Gore, Canon Divergence - Weirdmageddon, Consensual Kink, Dark Dipper Pines, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Non-Canonical Violence, Non-Consensual Violence, Older Pines Twins, Possessed Dipper Pines, Private Investigator Mabel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5268551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhical/pseuds/pyrrhical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new hobby was what he needed--a little something to fill the void she left behind. (indefinite hiatus)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> newwww fic!! ive been playing with this idea for a while now, and i'm pretty excited to really flesh it out now. prologue's really short, but don't worry. the meat of the story is coming, and boy will it be a nice chunk of flesh.

    Dipper and Mabel Pines had been intimate with the red room since they were children. When their heights were still close enough that growing was a competition, the two had slept in twin beds in the red room, its small center window letting beams of moonlight spill onto the faded, abused carpet. Then, they had filled the room with chatter and bicker and tears and laughter. The red room had been a sanctuary, a hidden fortress shaded by rose red curtains, filling the air not with flowery perfume but with decades old dust.

    Now, moonlight still falls in shafts through the window and old dust still circulates through the room, but the rose curtains melt into blood-red showers in Mabel's eyes as the sharp metallic scent of iron perfumes the air. It hangs heavy in the stale air, riding the dust particles that float lazily through the beams of moonlight. Her vision clouds as a hazy screen slides in front of her vision, replacing the bloody scene before her with a scene from her childhood, when the twin beds still stood on either side of the room and when Dipper and her still talked about everything earnestly and honestly.

    "Enough," Mabel says firmly, but she's sure that her companion can still hear the shake in her voice. "I think you and I both know that we're past the games and the tricks."

    The vision shatters, and Mabel swears she heard an actual pane of glass breaking, but there are no shards or slivers in front of her, just a shadowy figure turned silhouette by the silvery light streaming in the room from behind. Mabel has focused on 'stills' for the past six months, (the shack is still so run down, Gideon is still in the business of being a fraud, things are still not the way they used to be) but none of those have prepared her for the stillness of the scene in front of her. There is no movement, and no sound save the steady drip of blood from the figures’ hands, which are held away from its body, the fingers curled as if if they can still grasp the beating heart of their last victim. Mabel feels the need to break the silence, to slice through the heavy quiet.

    For the first time, she doesn't have to make the first leap.

    "I gave you a run for your money."

    An eerie grin lights from the shadowy figure, and Mabel recoils.

 


	2. exhibit a

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> j'veux pas mourir toute suele.

Mabel Pines has worked her ass off most of her life, pushing through undergraduate school as a criminal justice major, vying for an internship underneath Oregon’s top private eye, and now that she finally established her own practice, she's made a habit of accepting any and all clients, no matter how trivial or menial their request. But as Mabel shifts in the passenger seat of Dipper’s loud, whiny Jeep, she can’t think of anything more exhausting than making small talk with her brother.

“How’s ghost-hunting going?”

He hummed, eyes trained steadily on the road in front of him.

“Not too well.”

Of course, Mabel already knew this, seeing as Dipper never would’ve accepted her offer to work as her assistant if he was experiencing any degree of success in his work with the paranormal. She felt a little bad bringing it up, but when she had already exhausted the subjects of Grunkle Stan, their other great uncle Stan, their parents, and (most horrifically) the weather, Mabel was quick to grasp at any conversation topic that floated through her consciousness.

Even traumatic childhood memories.

“Remember Bill?”

The Jeep veered off the road as Dipper flinched. Mabel threw her hands out, clutching her seatbelt and her brother’s jacket. Gravel spit up from underneath the tires, and Mabel’s chest tightened, her previously steady breaths now jagged and harsh.

“Shit, Dipper!”

Her brother let off the gas pedal, jerking the steering wheel to the left. The Jeep pulled back onto the road, still cruising at 55 mph.

“Sorry.”

Mabel let go of Dipper’s arm slowly, noticing that the jacket kept its crumpled shape even after the tension from her hand was removed. Dipper noticed too, and glanced down at his sleeve with a small, irritated look before returning his gaze to the road.

Mabel bit the inside of her cheek, holding back the stream of questions that threatened to escape. She wasn’t sure which was worse--trying to hold a conversation with nothing to talk about, or having a million things to talk about, none of which appropriate for a 10 hour car ride.

“Do you still think about him?”

Dipper hummed again, and Mabel felt the stale atmosphere returning to their conversation.

“No.”

**+**

Three hours later, Dipper pulled off the interstate. Some part of Mabel detected a change in her previously constant environment and nudged her awake to the dim lights of some nowhere town Mabel has doubtless never set foot in before. Shortly the Jeep came to a stop, gravel crunching underneath Dipper’s custom tires.

“Wher’ we?” Mabel rubbed sleep out of her eyes.

“Some gas station in Dunsmuir.”

Mabel straightened in her seat. “Where’s that? Still in California?”

Dipper quieted the engine, pulling the keys from the ignition. “Yup.” Opening the car door, he tossed the keys to Mabel. “I’m going to grab something to eat. When I get back, it’s your turn to drive.”

Mabel groaned, tumbling out the passenger side door. “Fine, but I’m gonna need to visit the ladies’ room first.”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

Dipper disappeared inside the small building, fluorescent lights swallowing his thin figure. Mabel squinted, her eyes struggling to adjust to the abundance of light. Trudging across the parking lot in her cheap flip flops, she pulled the hair tie from her wrist and wrangled her hair into a floppy updo. Not her best, but good enough for some gas station in Dunsmuir.

The automated doors slid open as she approached the store front, and Mabel glanced around the store before locating the restrooms. Passing the donuts and instant coffee, she made a mental note to have Dipper buy half a dozen and two cups of french vanilla cappuccinos. The bathrooms were surprisingly clean, and with no one else in the room, Mabel pushed open the first stall, slipped her joggers down to her knees and precariously perched on the cold seat. There were a couple flyers taped to the walls of the stall, and Mabel sang under her breath as she read about BABYHEAD’s gig in the neighbouring town of Sanskid. Her eyes travelled down to the next line of the flyer, distantly curious about when BABYHEAD was playing, but the bold type seemed to fade into the white paper. Mabel blinked, squinting to make out the date--July 12th? 21st?--but the type simply faded into oblivion, and the rest of the world soon followed.

**+**

A loud crash woke Mabel, and she winced as her neck protested at her sudden start.

“Mabel? Mabel!”

The stall door flew open, and Dipper stood in front of her with mussed hair and wild eyes.

“Aghh! What the fuck, Dipper?” Mabel leaned forward, covering her lower half with one arm while wildly gesticulating with the other. “Get out!”

Dipper rushed forward, grabbing Mabel’s arm and ignoring her cries of protest. “Christ, pull your pants up, Mabel! We need to get out of here _now_.”

Wrenching her arm from her brother’s grip, Mabel shimmied her panties and joggers up to her waist, then followed her brother out of the bathroom, holding her hand out for a squirt of hand sanitizer from the automatic dispenser as she ran out the door. Rubbing her hands together vigorously, she tailed Dipper, who crouched low, weaving through aisles of gum, Pringles, and booze.

“What’s going on, Dipper?” Mabel yanked her brother’s sleeve, earning an immediate response.

“Be quiet!” He whispered tersely, pulling Mabel down to his level. “On the count of three, we’re going to run out to the car.” Dipper reached inside his coat pocket, and--not finding what he was looking for--began to pat down the rest of his pockets. Frowning, he turned to Mabel. “Where are the keys?”

“What?” Mabel stared back at her brother. “Why would I have them?”

Alarm grew in Dipper’s eyes. “I gave them to you before we came in here!” His voice, although still hushed, rose in pitch. “Where are the keys!?”

Mabel’s shoved both hands inside the pockets of her pants, fishing around for the keys. Her hands reemerged from the depths of her joggers with a crumpled gum wrapper and three nickels. A sudden realization gnawed at her core, and a bitter taste covered her tongue. She looked up at her brother, who stared at her expectedly. “They must have fallen out while I was in the bathroom,” she whispered, eyes wide with horror.

Dipper hit the ground with his fist, turning away from Mabel to peer around the shelf of king-size candy bars.

Mabel reached out and grasped his shoulder. “Dipper, what’s even out there? What’s going on?”

Her brother stiffened in response, and continued to stare out beyond the aisle. Mabel waited for a response, some kind of answer, but it never came. Fed up with the vague terror and half-formed plans to escape god knows what was beyond the shelf of snack food, Mabel rose from her crouch, pushing off of Dipper’s shoulder for support. She felt his hand reach for the back of her sweater as he hoarsely called her name, but Mabel pushed past him. Her gun was in the car, which hindered her ability to fend off whatever was scaring Dipper shitless, but Mabel tried not to think about it as she dashed out into the open.

The smell hit her first. She was completely unprepared for the sudden assault from the foul odor of death, tinged with a hard edge of bleach. Mabel had steeled herself for a raving lunatic or a rabid cougar. Hell, even her childhood terror Bill Cipher would have been less shocking than the scene before her.

The small gas station in Dunsmuir was painted red. Towards the back of the store the blood had begun to congeal and dry, fading into a dull brown color and tarnishing the cappuccino machine. But towards Mabel’s feet, it ran thin and bright, blood still pooling steadily across the checkered tile floor. In the center of the red mess, two bodies contorted, their bloody  raw chests heaving with death rattles. One head was turned towards Mabel, and dull recognition flashes in its pained eyes. Fingers twitched toward her, and a dry tongue called out.

“Help.”

The raspy voice was barely audible over the blood rushing in Mabel’s ears, but that small  stimulus was the tipping point, and she turned away and retched. Between the bile and the blood, Mabel heard footsteps, quiet and measured, approach her. A comforting touch aimed to sooth her; her brother’s hand rubbed gently on her back. When her body finally ran out of ammunition, she dry heaved for another few minutes before she relaxed.

The keys jangled in front of her face, dancing between Dipper’s fingers. “Let’s leave,” he said quietly and began to guide Mabel out of the store. She closed her eyes and tried not to breathe in the violent smell.

The glass doors slid open silently before them, and Mabel paused in the doorway. “Wait!” Wiping her sleeve across her mouth and grimacing slightly, she looked up at Dipper. “We can’t just leave them here, Dip,” she said, standing straighter. “They’re still alive!” Hysterical, Mabel pointed towards the closest body. “He called for help!”

Dipper shook his head slowly, and Mabel could see that his pupils were blown with shock. “I--I don’t think so, Mabel. They’re dead.”

She felt a sudden twinge of guilt. In the middle of all this carnage, God only knew what Dipper had witnessed while she was passed out on the goddamn toilet. And then when he had come to find her, terrified and panicked, she had resisted him, had ran right into the middle of the gore. _Christ_ , Mabel thought, _A+ job there, big sis_.

Wrapping one arm around her brother’s back, she walked with him out of the small gas station in Dunsmuir. He passed her the keys, and they both slipped inside the car, Mabel in the driver’s seat and Dipper on the passenger’s side. Mabel started the engine while Dipper pulled out his cellphone and called 911.

Mabel placed her hands on the steering wheel, adrenaline still coursing through her body, and watched them shake. Somewhere she heard Dipper speaking to the operator, his voice strained.

_“I didn’t get a good look.”_

_“No, they’re not.”_

_“Yes, I think I’m safe.”_

_“...alright.”_

Dipper placed the phone on speaker and set it on the dash of the Jeep with a sigh. “Ten minutes at most,” he said to Mabel, and she nodded in return, hands still gripping the steering wheel.

Dipper reached for the radio, switching to a local station. Air charged with anxiety and disbelief, they waited in the car for the sound of sirens, blue light from the gas station and Dipper’s phone painting their faces into two masks of dread.

 


	3. debut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little unsteady

The stark lights of the squad cars bounced off of Dipper’s Jeep, illuminating his face in bursts of red and blue. Mabel leaned against the hood of a police car, a thick blanket from one of the EMTs wrapped around her shoulders. It was grey and wool, and she had picked at the threads as one of the officers listened to her statement. 

She hadn’t said much. After she admitted to passing out on the toilet, the officer had called over another EMT, and Mabel had been subjected to another round of questions, these ones about her health. After ten minutes of refusing care and insisting she was perfectly healthy, Mabel finally convinced the EMT she was fine, and he had patted her shoulder sympathetically before gesturing to the officer to return. The police officer had a few more questions for Mabel, but the whole ordeal was much less of an ordeal than Mabel had expected.

For some reason, though, Dipper seemed to be receiving the short end of the stick and the long end of the questioning. Mabel shivered despite the California heat, thinking back to all the Law and Order she had watched while ‘studying’ for her Private Investigator certification. Males were always more suspect, but this seemed unusually extensive. The same officer who had questioned Mabel earlier joined the questioning. He spoke briefly while resting a hand on Dipper’s shoulder, who pinched the bridge of his nose in response. 

Mabel watched as Dipper shook his head, eyes downcast. The officers seemed to realize their investigation was going nowhere, and the female officer gave Dipper one last sympathetic pat on the back before entering the small gas station. Mabel stood, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders before making her way over to her brother.

They met by the Jeep. Dipper pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck. “We’re free to go,” he said bitterly. “I think it helped our case that you’re a certified detective in Oregon.”

Mabel nodded, pushing her bangs out of her face. “Did they say anything about surveillance?”

Dipper shook his head, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket and pulling out the keys. “There were two cameras. Somehow the perp managed to work in between their vision, killing invisibly. The officers didn’t say much about it, just that there was enough evidence to clear us but not enough to help find whoever did it.”

Mabel caught her brother’s hand, spinning him towards her and stepping closer. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shook his head in response, gently prying his wrist out of her hand. “I wish.”

“You know how improbable that is, Dipper? Whoever it was must have known this place, cased it ahead of time…” she fell silent and cast a glance over her shoulder at the gas station, which was now roped off by yellow caution tape. “You don’t think,” she began, but was cut off by her brother.

“No, Mabel,” he said harshly, pulling the driver’s side door open. “There’s no way.”

Mabel raced around the front of the car, jumping in the passenger side as her brother started the engine. “How do you know?” she persisted, gathering the blanket up around her and pulling the door shut. “Whoever did this could have been after us, and just didn’t get to finish the job!”

Dipper sighed, shifting the Jeep into reverse. “It just doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “We picked this gas station randomly. Even we had no idea we would come here. There’s no way someone could have known we would be here, much less case the place ahead of time.”

Mabel opened her mouth to protest, but stopped short when Dipper’s arm fell on her shoulder. A police officer approached their vehicle, and Dipper moved the stick to park and rolled down the window with a terse smile. 

“Something else we can do for you, officer?”

The police officer rested a hand on the door frame, glancing around inside the vehicle. His gaze met Mabel’s and she dipped her head, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Something about the officer was unsettling. As he made uncomfortable small talk with Dipper, who Mabel could see clearly wanted to leave as soon as possible, she stole another glance. The officer seemed normal enough. Brown hair cut short at the nape of his neck but allowed to grow out in front. Hazel eyes that still roamed the inside of the Jeep. But as Mabel watched him continue to chat with her brother, the unsettling aura from the officer didn’t dissipate. If anything it only grew stronger. Mabel shuddered.

The officer immediately glanced towards her, eyes widening into an unreadable expression. A small smile split his face, and he patted the side of the Jeep. 

“Well, I won’t keep you folks here any longer. Sure you want to get away from all this mess as quick as possible.” 

Mabel nodded and Dipper smiled tersely. “Thanks for your help,” Dipper said, and the officer stepped away with a small nod.

“Finally,” Dipper muttered under his breath and rolled up the window. “Prick.”

 

The remaining seven hour drive to the Mystery Shack was a comfortable sort of silence. The air was warm from the Jeep’s heating system, and the wool blanket wrapped around Mabel was nearly as heavy as her eyelids. She dozed off a few times, with the radio’s static voices as white noise. Dipper drove the entire way, never asking Mabel for relief. Every once in awhile he would change the radio station as the signal became weaker.

Mabel fell willingly into unconsciousness each time her eyes closed. Although the eery officer haunted the back of her thoughts, accompanied by the gruesome couple at the gas station, her dreams were mostly pleasant nonsense. Lazy sundays with an old ex-boyfriend, coffee shop dates with a budding relationship, and past Christmas parties were all recurring themes, struck down only rarely by a streak of blood or a shrill scream.

When the dreams crept into nightmare territory, Mabel started awake, blood rushing. But before she had time to properly be scared, the smothering warmth lulled her back into oblivion.

Sleepy half-formed thoughts drifted through her head. 

_ Dipper was right. _

_ Couldn’t be pre-meditated… _

_ Freak incident. _

_ She’d move past it. _

She was safe now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy christmas that took a long time to update. xmas break is upon me, though, so i will try my best to pound out the next few chapters so updates won't be so sporadic. :)) happy new year everyone!!


	4. log1: WMA UTL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony  
> No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me'

Earth moved silently underneath the Jeep’s tires as it rolled up to the Mystery Shack, occasionally spitting up behind the rear wheels as Dipper’s car splashed through a mud puddle. The Oregon forest was alive around them and heaved as a single entity in the morning light, which streamed through the overhead canopy and fell to the ground in ribbons of yellow and gold. Mabel shifted in her seat, peeling the heavy cotton blanket off of her skin. The Jeep was warm and thick, and her muscles dozed in a sleepy haze. Mabel consciously and slowly called them all back to the waking world, wiggling and reviving her arms, then her fingers, and lastly, her legs and toes. 

The stress and horror of last night felt far away, as if it had only been a dream. For just a minute, Mabel was able to convince herself that it was, but the presence of the cotton blanket and the bags under Dipper’s eyes reminded her with a less than subtle push that yes, that was real. Even then, her mind worked to please her.  _ Dipper drove all night, of course he would have bags under his eyes.  _ But Mabel and her mind both knew that staying awake all night was hardly a new experience for Dipper. 24 and 36 hour days were a regular for her brother, and he hid them with the skill of a decades-practiced magician. Their parents had never suspected that their only son might have insomnia, even the week Dipper pulled four all-nighters in a row. No, it would take more than one sleepless night to show any sort of physical exhaustion in her brother’s face.

“Awake?” Dipper’s voice was raspy, a stark contrast to the shining morning.

Mabel nodded, humming a brief affirmation. 

“Good. We’re here.” Dipper killed the engine, pulling the keys out and deftly tucking them in his jacket pocket. “Let’s unload,” he said, a trace of enthusiasm creeping in his tone as he slipped out the driver’s side.

Mabel followed suit, shutting the door behind her and trodding around to the back of the Jeep. Dipper pulled her suitcase out of the trunk and handed it to her. It was followed by a briefcase, handbag, and a couple other shopping bags full of clothes Mabel picked up the day before her and Dipper left California. The Oregon weather wouldn’t find her unprepared.

Dipper shook his head slightly with a smile, then reached back into the trunk and pulled out his only bag, an impressive-looking backpack that hung comfortably off his shoulders. They trudged together up to the porch, and Dipper slipped the backpack off of his shoulder, searching the side pocket for a moment before pulling out a single silver key. The door opened with a creak, and Mabel slipped inside, Dipper close behind her.

The inside of the shack was musty, and as Mabel flicked on the main lights of the shack the sheer amount of dust became quickly apparent. Mabel dropped her bags on the old wood floors and a tiny dust blizzard flew through the air. Dipper coughed into the crook of his arm, his eyes watering.

Mabel glanced over towards her brother, knowing exactly what was going to happen next. “Bless you,” she said, picking up two of her bags and beginning to carry them across the room. 

As she crossed over the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, she heard Dipper sneeze quickly three times, then mutter “thanks”.

Something caught Mabel’s eye, and she skipped over to the TV, skimming over a coffee-stained piece of paper taped to the set. She instantly recognized it as her Grunkle’s careless scrawl.

 

_ This old place should be spotless when I come back! No parties or anything. _

_ -Stan _

_ PS: Ford says to take care of yourselves. _

 

Mabel pulled the note from the television, and placed it on top of the set. Dipper would see it eventually. Humming under her breath, Mabel lugged her bags out of the living room and up the stairs. Her briefcase slapped against her thigh with each step, and the suitcase grated against the wood. Mabel rolled her eyes, giving the suitcase an extra yank up onto the second level of the shack. A small smile creeped into a grin as Mabel opened to door to her old summer bedroom. Dumping her bags at the entrance, she strode inside the room, stepping into the triangular patch of sunlight that streamed through the room’s only window. The old twin beds sat on either side of her, just as she remembered.

How many years had it been? The last time her and Dipper had come to Gravity Falls, it had been a struggle to convince their parents to allow the trip. Although that first summer Mr. and Mrs. Pines had all but thrown their children on the bus to Gravity Falls--in the best, most loving way possible, of course--by the time Dipper and Mabel were thinking about college and studying for standardized exams, their parents had caught wind of the more illicit activities of the children's summers. Their father had been particularly concerned about a rumored trip to the county jail for counterfeit. ‘ _ What if Stanford finds out, Dipper? _ ’ 

Of course, their father hadn’t been referring to Dipper and Mabel’s Great Uncle Stanford, who had been brought back from whatever ungodly dimension the portal had sent him to all those years ago. And their father hadn’t been referring to their Great Uncle Stanley, who their parents still called ‘Stanford’. Their father was worried about Stanford University uncovering Dipper’s criminal record, which was small but quite impressive, especially considering he had only been twelve years old at the time.

Mabel shook her head. Something about the shack buried her in nostalgia, which was exactly the opposite of what she needed now. Her whole career was in front of her now that she finished her schooling. Wandering over to her mirror out of habit, Mabel slapped her hands over her cheeks, eyes watering slightly. 

“You’ve got this, Mabel,” she said, staring down her reflection. “You are a brilliant, beautiful, determined woman who is going to establish a successful private detective agency in your old summer town.”

_ Gravity Falls, it’s good to be back! _

An old ghost’s voice floated through her mind, and Mabel admonished herself gently. It was in the past. She had to work towards her future. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t honor tradition. Jumping over the bags she dropped in the doorway, Mabel scurried down the stairs, skipping the third step that always felt off to her.

At the bottom, she rounded the corner, jogging into the living room. 

“So do we need to fight over who gets which bed, or can we just agree on the ones we’ve always used?”

Dipper’s backpack sat on the couch, but he was nowhere in sight. Mabel frowned, twirling around. “Dip?”

“Mabel, I can’t hear you. Just come in here.”

Mabel followed her brother’s voice into Stanford’s old room. The door was held open by Dipper’s backpack, which was almost empty. Dipper’s possessions were strategically placed around the room, all surrounding Dipper himself, who stood with his back towards Mabel and his hands on his hips surveying the room.

Mabel felt her heart sink. 

“What’re you doing, bro-bro?” 

“Hm?” Dipper turned towards Mabel, biting his lower lip. “Oh,” he said, letting his hands fall to his side. “Moving in?” 

Mabel frowned, refusing to make eye contact with her brother under the guise of inspecting the room. She allowed her gaze to wander from a crystal grid in the window to the journals, which were neatly stacked on a shelf above the sleeper-sofa. “I thought we were going to do it like old times.” Mabel coughed. “Like our old summers here when we were kids.”

Dipper’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that what we’re doing? I mean, that’s why we came here, right?”

“Riiight.” Mabel bit the inside of her cheek. “But I mean like,” her sentence fell apart as she resorted to vague gestures.

“Oh.” Dipper caught on, and Mabel silently thanked whoever created twin-telepathy. “Isn’t sharing a room a little…” Dipper mirrored Mabel, hands splayed in a meaningless grasp. “...cramped?” 

“Oh.” Mabel failed to reign in her disappointment, and Dipper immediately looked guilty, which in turn caused Mabel to feel guilty. Damn whoever came up with twin-telepathy. “Pfff,” she bluffed, stepping into the room to give her brother a playful punch. “You’re totally right, Dip. I mean, we’re adults now!” Her voice dropped an octave, and she marched dramatically out of the room. “Can’t jump start a successful career if my li’l brother is breathing down my neck!” She paused in the doorway to look back at Dipper. He seemed relieved, which was what Mabel had been hoping for, but she still felt a gnawing in her stomach. Ignoring it, she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Besides, now I don’t have to be around all your nerd ghost hunting stuff!” Exiting the room to head back upstairs, she called over her shoulder, “Don’t forget it’s your day to make lunch!”

Resting her hand on the bannister, Mabel jumped as her ringtone echoed throughout the Shack.  _ Girl, you know it’s destiny, take my hand and you’re gonna see... _

As Mabel sprinted up the stairs, she heard her brother groan something about manufactured boy bands. Taking the last few steps two at a time, Mabel skidded into her room, the thought of working with her first client on the forefront of her mind. Plunging her hand into her purse, it returned triumphantly seconds later with her phone in hand.

“Mabel Pines, State-certified P.I. speaking! How can I help you?”

A shuddering breath crackled through the speaker. “You can start by apologizing.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“You mean you don’t remember _me_? It’s been but a day since I last saw you, my dear.” The voice lisped and rasped, and Mabel subconsciously held the phone away from her ear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I think it’s time for me to go.” Without hesitation, Mabel pulled the phone from her ear, tapping the screen to wake it up. The display flashed in her eyes, and Mabel swiftly moved to end the call. As she slid the red button, the voice laughed, a sordid chuckle that ended abruptly as Mabel disconnected. 

Fumbling with the power button, Mabel turned the phone off completely and hid it in the bottom of her purse. Taking a deep breath, she fell on top of her bed, pulling her hair out of the sloppy ponytail. Chewing on a strand, she stared out the window. Her first day back in Gravity Falls wasn’t going exactly as she had imagined it would. 

At least Dipper was making lunch.


End file.
